


Roughing It

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:44:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting through a rough patch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roughing It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lemniskate67](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemniskate67/gifts).



> takes place in 2000. inspired primarily by a certain picture of Justin from the NSA promo shots. also, this is for kirsch because I miss her terribly and she needs to come home.

Justin heard the truck long before he saw it. Out there, it was hard not to; the only other sounds were pretty much natural -- birds and animals, insects, wind. As well, the cabin's driveway was long and gravel, affording any occupants ample warning of a vehicle's approach.

He glanced in the mirror, making sure his rumpled look was casual and appeared genuine, then pulled open the front door and leaned out. _He's late_ , he smiled to himself, thoroughly not caring.

Joey was hauling a suitcase out of the truck's passenger seat, setting it on the ground with a thud. His face looked stormy in profile, but it cleared when he turned to see Justin at the open door.

Justin felt an odd shyness, a hesitancy. If it had been any of the others, he would have launched himself unquestioningly into their arms. This was different, though, and Justin chewed on his lower lip, waiting for Joey to come down the walk, set his bag down, touch Justin's cheek with soft fingers and say, "Hey," in his rough-silk voice. Joey did all of those things, and then tilted his head and kissed Justin, and Justin thought his heart might burst.

* * *

"I was afraid you weren't gonna come," Justin said, once they'd brought Joey's bag in. They were sitting at the kitchen table -- a big picnic table that someone had painted black and brought inside -- with beers. Music played faintly from another part of the cabin.

"I got lost twice," Joey said. "Those directions you gave me sucked."

"Sorry," Justin said, sincerely. He was so used to this place that he'd forgotten that the general store, a traditional landmark, had been gone for at least five years, and the big maple at the corner of the turn to the lake had been struck by lightning in a storm and was now gone.

The song on the radio changed twice before Joey cleared his throat. "So," he said.

Justin looked up from his fingers, which he'd been using to trace circles in the condensation left by his beer. When Joey didn't say anything further, he swallowed. "I, uh. I'm glad you came," he said. He was pretty sure he'd said that already, but he wasn't sure what else to say.

Joey nodded, though, and looked over Justin's shoulder at the huge windows that filled one end of the living room. "I'm not--." He paused then, as if trying to clear out the words that had stuck in his throat. "I can't promise anything. But I-- I didn't want to. To make you think that I didn't want to try."

Looking down at the shiny paint on the table, Justin felt a lump rise in his throat. "OK," he said. "I mean. That's--. I didn't want you to feel like. Like I was forcing you into anything."

"You're not," Joey said quickly, in his typical reassuring manner. From the corner of his eye, Justin saw Joey's hand twitch towards him and then pull back. He wasn't sure whether to be gladdened or upset by that. Joey's hand moved again, after a moment, and covered Justin's where it rested next to his beer bottle on the table. Justin inhaled sharply. Despite the kiss of greeting, he still wasn't sure what to anticipate, and the willing contact made him shake just a little.

"So," Joey said into the stretching silence, "what is there to do around here in the middle of freakin' nowhere?"

Justin managed a relieved smile. "Uh, we, let's get your clothes put away and I can show you everything."

* * *

He'd had a moment of worry when he led Joey into the main bedroom -- should he have just assumed Joey would stay in the same room? But Joey shrugged and tossed his bag down on the floor, next to Justin's, and then turned again to look at him.

Feeling somehow grateful, Justin let himself babble a little as he gave Joey a tour of the cottage, talking about when his great-grandparents had purchased it, how undeveloped the land had been back then and how everything had grown up around them. The place wasn't that large, certainly not by their standards: three bedrooms, two small bathrooms, a good-sized kitchen, a large familyroom with tall windows that looked to the lake. "So now everyone comes here during the summer, it's pretty much always in use every weekend," Justin finished, as they headed outside and along the stone path that led to the water.

"I can see why," Joey said. The lakeshore was rough, rocky, with a small wood pier jutting out to two boat berths. A large pontoon boat sat in one, suspended on a wood and metal frame over the water; in the other rested a sleek, smaller speedboat.

"The fishing's really good, if you want to do that. Or, you know, there's waterskiing, or there's the windsurfer." Justin faltered; none of those sounded like things Joey would be interested in, and suddenly he thought that this was a mistake. Then again, when he'd originally had this idea, he'd pictured a swift reconciliation followed by lots of slow lovemaking, with very little in the way of outdoor activities. He should have known better.

"Let's try out the speedboat," Joey said, with a smile, and Justin looked up.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I want you to show me how to drive it."

"Cool. I'll just -- go get the key," Justin grinned, and nearly fell on his face running back up the path.

* * *

It didn't take Joey long to get the hang of handling the little boat, and soon Justin was sitting in the front, ahead of the windshield, letting the wind whip his hair back and humming happily to himself. He was addicted to speed, he knew, but on a day like today, with Joey steering them safe across the choppy waves -- the boat bouncing hard over each crest, smacking the water each time it landed with a tooth-rattling jolt, the sun so bright and fierce that it transformed the water to diamonds -- today, the rush was the best feeling on earth.

After an initial circuit of the lake, Joey slowed down a bit, and Justin went back to sit in the passenger seat and point out landmarks: the "sunken island" where the fishing was supposedly best; the nicer cottages -- houses, really -- where, as a kid, Justin had always gazed with envious longing; the small island in the northern portion of the lake, with its own cottages and small ferry.

Finally, Joey yelled over the engine's roar that he was getting hungry, so they turned to head back to the cottage. Justin realized, as he directed Joey in easing the boat back into its berth, that his hand lay on Joey's shoulder; but Joey didn't seem to mind. He was surprised to feel the hope blossoming in the back of his mind.

* * *

He'd stopped for groceries yesterday, so the fridge was well-stocked, and he started the grill while Joey took out a couple of steaks and got them ready.

The sunlight was beginning to grow long, and Justin idly slapped at mosquito after mosquito. "Do you want me to do anything, man?" he asked. He hoped Joey would say no; he was enjoying watching him, his long strong thighs beneath his shorts, the easy, competent way Joey handled the grill.

"You want to make a salad or something?" Joey suggested, glancing over at Justin, who was sitting at the patio table.

Justin made a face, but got up, buoyed by Joey's smile.

* * *

They ate outside, slapping away the constant insects, as the sun sank lower behind the house. After the meal, sitting back next to Joey with a beer in his hand and the stars coming out overhead, Justin gave a sigh of contentment. He felt better than, probably, he should, under the circumstances, but everything was going well and they'd even be sleeping in the same bed tonight.

"So we should talk," Joey said, and Justin's heart plummeted.

"Uh. Yeah. You're right, we should."

Joey was silent for a long moment, long enough that Justin began to wonder if he'd changed his mind. Then, "I was mad," he said. "I'm still mad, don't get me wrong, but. Not as much as before, or I wouldn't have come."

"I'm glad you did," Justin said softly.

"Me, too," and Joey smiled briefly before looking away again. The evening's stillness, composed of the chirring of insects, faint sounds from the neighboring cottages, the occasional plop! from the lake, pressed in on Justin's ears. "And I. I really want to make this work, but I need you to understand how much it hurt me, and how hard it's gonna be for me to trust you for a while."

Justin nodded slowly. He still hated himself for that impulsive moment, for something he hadn't even meant to happen. He had been getting drunk with Britney, hanging out and laughing over the stupidest shit, and when, giggling, she'd suggested that they make out -- "so it looks right if we hafta kiss on camera," she'd said -- he'd been drunk enough to think the idea a great one. But she was his friend and his beart, to cover his clandestine relationship with Joey. He wasn't supposed to have any kind of sexual interest in her.

Which was why it had come as such a shock when Joey's bellow awoke them the next morning, and he'd groggily realized that not only was he naked in bed with Britney -- that things had clearly gone further than he intended or even remembered -- but that Joey had discovered them together.

It had taken three weeks before Joey would even talk to him, longer for Justin to be able to explain the evening's events. As much as Justin wanted to just go back to the way things were before, he was equally aware that nothing would be the same again.

"I know," he said softly, in response to Joey's statement. "And I, I totally understand. I'd feel the same way. I hate -- I hate that I made such a stupid mistake and hurt you, that I hurt us, 'cause, I mean. I love you."

"Well." Joey's mouth quirked a little. "Guess it does kinda prove nobody's perfect."

"Not even me," Justin said, with a wry smile. "I. I know it sounds corny, but it won't happen again. I do learn from my mistakes."

"It'll take me some time to." Joey paused, bringing his beer up as if he were going to drink from it, then putting it down again. "I mean, I believe you and all, and I know you're sincere. And I'm still in love with you, too, that hasn't changed. I just gotta, you know. Learn to trust you again."

Justin winced. "I know."

"It's weird," and Joey's voice was soft, musing. "I do still love you. I think that's why I got so mad, because I love you so much, and it hurt to think you didn't feel the same way. But I kinda started getting past the hurt, and I know it's not that you didn't love me as much."

Justin nodded, his throat too thick for speech. He stared at the lake until he couldn't see anything, until the world around him was pitch black. He might have stayed there all night, contemplating his screw-ups, but for Joey's hand on his shoulder, gentle and firm, distracting him from his thoughts.

"Come on," Joey murmured. "Let's go to bed."

Justin grinned as he stood and followed Joey inside. The happy feeling was back, suddenly, and this time, he didn't think it was going to leave.


End file.
